Post by dorothy ashlynn fray on Aug 22, 2013 0:45:04 GMT -8
| [atrb=style,width: 420px; background-color: efefef; background-image: url(http://24.media.tumblr.com/0478144b9f16c95a37367d1aca56b45c/tumblr_mkfax8tDxp1s97ldco1_500.png); padding: 5px, bTable] DOROTHY ASHYLNN FRAY TWENTY | BISEXUAL | FREELANCE PHOTOGRAPHER/TUTOR | COLLEGE | ASHLEY GREENE sitting in the waiting line, she was not fidgeting. she should have been, most normal people would have been. most people would have turned around at the sight of the doors but not her, not dorothy, she had never been like that. she was always so sure about herself and her desires, and this one had been burning since she was eight years old. a natural child-like curiosity brought her into the bedroom of her mother’s and steve’s. she had used to call him dad for the longest time, though that relationship crumbled when the truth was revealed. nestling back in her seat, her head rested against the wall as she waited for her number to be called. her eyes opened every few minutes with the sound of heels, or to check that her number was still in her hand. it was nothing but a fight that brought her to this place, a place to find lost faces. her investigation was not about a lost face though. it was about finding the one who left her mother and herself alone. steve was there, he was not a father, just a friend of her mother’s but he had been known as dad for the longest time. dorothy could not imagine making a child call someone who was not their father that title. he did not earn it, there was no act of love that created her through the loins of the male that she called father for eight years. the more that she thought about it, the tiny the paper got in her hand as she crumbled it under a curled first. that was, until she heard her name being called. “doro…”, giving her eyes a roll at the stopping of the announcing of her name, everyone did it. it was not a common name and the only reason that she was dubbed it was due to the fact that her mother was watching the wizard of oz movie when she went into labor, by herself, with no one around and eating some kind of sandwich. dorothy was lucky not to be named lettuce.” ”actually, it’s ash.”, giving the making of a condescending tone before remembering why she was even in this building in the first place. the woman nodded as dorothy rose on her five inch heels, her mother always dolling her up and it seemed that the habit had yet to die. she was working on it though, jeans today instead of a skirt. her girly ways would eventually die down and usually did with a camera in her hand as she did anything to get the perfect shot of the subject through her lens. grabbing her purse off the chair beside her, not fancying the idea of having to make small talk with someone who chose to sit next to her, she followed the woman into the smaller space, an office and watched as she placed a file on the desk. ”is that him?’, she asked with the same child-like curiosity that got her into this mess, ”who dear?’, having to stop herself from cringing. this woman was blissfully unaware of what was happening and dorothy waved her off, dismissing the topic with someone who did not need to know it. she was not private by any means but she knew when something was delicate and this topic was about her, and it was a fragile case in that matter. ”did you need anything before mr. edwards joins you?", but she shook her head. she had to bite her tongue for the most part, her anger flaring to the impatience that she sometimes got (maybe that was due to being an only child in a household with a mother who bowed down to her will), ”i’m all set.”, sitting down in the chair and dropping the bag onto the floor this time as there was no need for another to take the chair beside her. this was a private matter after all. the sound of the door opening caused her eyes to close. she was exhausted. working on editing photos and then the process of actually developing them plus the work she was putting in was tiring. the suburban girl from michigan was all she was, but she felt like the world was sitting on her shoulders right now. the door opened again and her eyes opened as her body lifted off the chair, turning to face the man who was aged but not that as much as his name suggested. she pictured a gray hair man who was beginning to show signs of falling apart but that was just her vivid imagination going haywire. extending her hand, the male seemed startled but not by her gesture, ”we don’t get a lot of eighteen year olds in here.”, in which dorothy nodded. she had been aware of that in the two hours that she sat in the waiting room but deciding against such a comment and instead, just shrugged as she pulled her hand back into her own side. tell me a little about why you are here dor-“, again with the pause that promoted her to roll her eyes, ”ash, just call me ash. or lynn.”. it was not that strange of a name, why did it startle everyone? she sat back down in her seat and nodded, ”just graduated from high school, love photography, dedicated to making my mother proud and giving her hell…teenage angst and all, and …that’s really me at this point.”. he nodded, not writing any of the information down before he reached for the folder, ”says you are looking for your..”, peering closer to the paper as though he needed glasses, ”father. biological.”, she commented, a bit of guilt dripping off her tone but her body language read confidence. her voice always gave her away. “why?” spoke the male at the other end of the desk that she wanted to reach over and choke for asking such a stupid question, in her mind. she wanted to find her father, case closed, why did he have to know the why? she gave a small sigh and looked over her shoulder, as though she was waiting for her mother burst in and take her away from the truth. ”everyone deserves to know where they came from. i only know half of my story..”, she commented before another shrug was had, ”isn’t that good enough?’, almost pleading with him to just leave it there. she felt incomplete without the other side. she felt missing, pieces of her history and her life were not told in truth. for the first eight years, an influential time, she thought that steve was her real father. she thought her mother and steve were married but it was not the case. he was just the inn repair man that her mother and her lived in for the first six years. there was no romantic feelings though now, dorothy did not believe it and even encouraged it. steve was a bit of a loose cannon, a little flighty but he was still a good man. he had a nice spirit and though his drinking was excessive and he liked to blow his paychecks on the most trivial things, he was good for her mom. plus, as she looked to the man who had that knowing look, dorothy knew that someone was going to need there to be with her mother when she went to her father’s doorstep. "you already know, don't you?", she asked skeptically, putting her hands on the desk in front of her and leaning forward, "needed to know it was for a good reason.", dropping the folder infront of her and she flipped the cover to see a picture of man with her eyes and her ears, smiling...with another family. "bit creepy.." she commented under her breath, "what is?', giving him a small smile, "how far away you took this picture. thank you mr. edwards, this actually means the world.". getting up, she rushed out the door with little thought into the societal expectations for farwells. she did not shake his hand, she just took the folder and walked away. ”mom please stop crying.”, said the eighteen year old as she put the last of the baggage into the car. with knowing where her father was, dorothy picked a school nearby, not entirely close but close enough, a state away, so she could be closer to him. they had been talking on the phone and he invited her to stay with him until school began. to lie to her mother was a difficult task. insensitively, the girl lifted the camera out of the bag and snapped a photo of her sobbing mother in the arm’s of steve who appeared a little misty eyed himself. ”mom, this was bound to happen. eighteen, all grown up…”, spinning a full circle to show her the woman that she had become, ”it’s not sad mom.”, but her voice was starting to crack. this was the woman who sacrificed chances at love and money to raise her daughter. she walked away from a relationship for her daughter with the man that could have given her the world, the same man that her daughter was now lying about and was going to go stay with. she felt guilty but the truth could not be known, her mother could not be aware of what she was doing. looking over to the sobbing woman, she gave her an apologetic look before getting into the car. she waved to the man that she called dad for eight years, having no real words for him. she gave him a knowing look before he smiled and she rolled her eyes, only seen through the rear view mirror. the last thing that dorothy did before driving off was snap a picture of herself, smiling and looking ready for the future. two years have come and gone and the plan had worked out as she expected. living with her father for two weeks before school, she got to learn more about herself. learning of the roots that she came from, and finding that her creative, artistic gene came from her father as her mother could not even make a stick figure and neither could steve. she started to feel whole for the first time since learning the truth when she was eight years old, ten years of feeling incomplete did something to people’s psyche. she was not exactly normal, straight forward and blunt, very confident in herself, her temper sometimes went through the roof but she simmered down after deep breaths and rational thoughts. the girl was logical but not resourceful, she learned that at a party in her second year of university which was going quite well. the expenses of living in a dorm for the first two years was easy to pay off with her father’ help but being in third year, narrowing her major to photojournalism and starting to come into her own adult form, dorothy took up one job. it was a newspaper job, a favor for her step brother who happened to go to the same school as her and who was actually very easy to get along with. he asked for a couple of photos and that turned into a position and then paid position and that was where she found her calling. the girl was no writer, but her pictures helped visualize what the words were saying—or that is what the editor told her after they went to bed together. maybe sleeping with the editor was not the brightest idea but he was so intelligent and that was oddly attractive for her. her step brother is not aware, he might even be furious with her if he knew but for now, it was just another dirty little secret that has been happening for a year. with two university relationships under her belt, she found university boys to be far too immature for her—or maybe that was just the high standards she set. sleeping with an editor did that, apparently. with weekly calls to her mother, daily text conversations to her father, the nightly visits of her editor and the avoidance of her step sister, this girl is quite busy but now she is not permitted to live in a dorm and feels that mooching off her father more would be inappropriate, so she took a second job. this was tutoring high school students. she has four students and is about to take on a fifth who she has heard whispers about but does not believe them, not until she sees them for herself. he is said to be a real pain in the ass but she is confident enough in herself to get him through his final year of high school, again. she managed to get the football captain a decent score on his SATs, she performed that miracle, why would this one be any different? ARTIST STATEMENT “this is a photgraph. i’m not a writer.” UNIVERSITY TESTIMONIES ”ash? she was my roommate in my first year, her first year too. we were both art majors and really bonded over that aspect. guess her life got busy the next year but she still made the time to text me or meet me for coffee. not going to lie but we were eachother’s first…experience. drunk one but that is what college is for, right!? she’s quite an attentive lover and friend, that much is certain. she won’t drop everything all at once for you, which is a bit annoying but the girl knows where her priorities are. she introduced me to her half-brother who i dated for a bit, pretty decent guy. she is a character though, sassy but sweet…don’t know how that combination works but she makes it happen. she can put you down and lift you up all that once, kick with a smile i guess. she makes you feel good about yourself but the girl is not a liar and she will tell you how it is if that’s the case.” – casey william, only lesbian experience and first year roommate. ”she’s no prude, that’s for certain. wildcat really but her appearance would be deceiving until she gives you that look. she knows what she wants but it seems she does not always strive for it as much as she should. the girl does fight but she will give up if she finds it to be useless. at least, that’s what happened with our relationship. our schedules never matched and we only saw each other on certain days and maybe she wanted more, maybe i could have y’know…been there. she needed that with everything happening in her life. she is not the best of girlfriends though. she is not all that affectionate in public and she does not call or text, she is not clingy which is nice but she is distant which is weird. cutting our relationship was for the best, wish i had been the one to do it though.” – scott lupin, first university boyfriend. she did all of her work, she was attentive enough though i did see her fall asleep a few times during my lectures. she introduced herself on the first day and she is a student that you know is going to turn every essay in with pizzaz. she was creative with her titles but her structure needed work, though she kept saying she was not a writer. it was at the end of every single essay in small print by the number page, it was cute but a little unnecessary. she was not quirky, but lively. a determined young woman with a good heart, she was a pleasure to teach when she was sitting third row, fifth seat in every Monday.” – professor callum, shakespeare lit. ”the girl just walked into my dad’s life and thinks she can take the spot of his eldest daughter? no fucking way. i see her for what she is but no one else seems to be able to. my brother adores her and my father is enthralled in her life that it’s sickening, she took away my dad and my brother…the little bitch. she really is a bitch. she has no respect for me or my feelings. she had no right to just come into the house and sleep on my floor, though my dad told me i should let her sleep in my bed…uh, no. i will find a way to get her out, fuck hate her.” –claire duncan, half sister BEHIND THE MASK ERIN | TWENTY ONE | EASTERN | MAGIC | CHECK SHIPPER.  |
